


What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

by jinorasab



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Death, Drama, Hospitals, M/M, Sad Ending, Soldier Shownu, Soldiers, Surgeons, War, World War I, surgeon kihyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinorasab/pseuds/jinorasab
Summary: At bed number nineteen, a soldier would have his hands held by a medical surgeon as he tried hard to remember all the good things in life before he closed his eyes.
Relationships: Son Hyunwoo | Shownu/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

It was a quiet night; or at least it finally quieted down, compared to the fiasco and catastrophe that happened earlier.

Kihyun sighed, head laid against an edge of a window at the end of the hospital corridor. Being assigned as a medical surgeon in the nearest hospital from the front made him feel awful, just like usual. At one point, he should have been grateful (or so his brother claimed) for not being drafted and to be armed with guns. He should have been happy that he would not be the one screamed for painkillers with melted faces, or to be the one on the receiving end of a surgery knife, wailing for a leg to be amputated. He should have been relieved that he was not the one forced living inside the trenches, damp and dark and smelly, waiting for orders that would change as easily as turning one’s hand.

But war was war, and death was inevitable, no matter how supposedly comfortable his dwelling was. Even with his eyes closed, hands clean of blood, and several hours later, he could still picture how miserable the soldiers were. How pitiful their sobbing were. How guilty he felt knowing that he couldn’t save them, merely giving them a merciful ending in a form of a draught of dreamless, eternal sleep. How many soldiers he saw begging for him to reduce their pain, to forgive their sins, to stay and not leave them in between of their sorrowful sobs. He remembered them all vividly, and even though the night was now peaceful, he could not feel at ease.

Especially this afternoon, when herds of newly wounded soldiers came rushing from Verdun. Kihyun realized that he had been assigned to serve as a medical surgeon in the front line for at least twelve months, the same time as when his beloved enlisted for the army, but he still couldn’t get used to the despair.

But again, who could?

He cupped his own face using his palms. At least, from countless faces that he had encountered, no one was familiar. Yet. And it was nightfall. The soldiers that could be saved had been sleeping. The hospital was quiet, faint breathing could be heard with occasional groans of discomfort. It was almost silent, broken with taps of shoes that came closer towards Kihyun.

“Doctor? Doctor Kihyun?”

A soft, tired melody tingled and made his attention snap back into reality. There he saw a nurse, a newbie he supposed, looking as tired as he was, with trembling eyes. Realizing that he was maybe the reason why the newbie VAD looked absolutely terrified, Kihyun tried hard to let some of the tense go. “Yes?” would be his response, with dropped shoulders and a long sigh. A small and warm smile formed upon his chapped and pale lips. “Is there anything I could help you, Sister?”

The little lady seemed unsure. She kept biting her lower lips before she finally squeaked. “Doctor, you were needed at bed number nineteen,” she said, “A soldier needed to be accompanied.”

An eyebrow raised, a hint of his confusion. For a soldier to be accompanied was not a rare occasion. Every night, at least one man would be separated with a red curtain, hiding him from the rest of the sleeping soldiers. Someone would hold their hand and be with them, humming sweet words and affirmation, sometimes giving absolutions and promises, as they walked free from this earth into heaven. Kihyun understood that it was a merciful act and generous intent for the soldiers so as they would not die alone, but he also guessed that a nurse would be far more suited for the job.

“Why can’t you hold his hand, then?” Kihyun asked, wishing that his remark would not be as frank as it was, looking from how her body flinched from the sharpness of his words. It was a tiring day for both of them and his anxiety should not be a reason to snap at an innocent person. “Sorry, I just don’t understand. I’m used to seeing you guys do that instead of doctors. Why me, though?”

“It’s okay, sir. It’s just... I think you would be better than me, holding the soldier in bed number nineteen.” she answered, “Number nineteen, sir. Thank you very much.”

She left afterwards, leaving Kihyun with no choices. He shifted his weight from one feet to another, lips pressing onto one another, thinking hard and trying hard to forget the feeling that he knew what he would see when he opened the red curtain that shielded bed number nineteen from other soldiers. It was an odd request, and any oddity here would mean nothing but a bad omen. However, he could not just turn his back and leave; the least he could do for the soldier was to accompany him, and let him go peacefully.

What laid upon his eyes once he sat beside the bed was nothing he could prepare for. Yes, he had the anticipation of having bad news thrown on his face. Yes, Kihyun had thought that maybe the nurse knew the soldier would know him. Yes, he already understood that he was supposed to be ready for whatever bad news that was waiting for him behind the curtain. What Kihyun could not be prepared for was not only he knew who the soldier with bandages wrapped tightly around his head, but it was the face he longed for but did not want to meet; at least not here, not behind the red curtain.

The soldier’s breath was short and heavy. There were cuts, bruises, burns and wounds on his face and neck. One of his arms was covered in bandages, most likely because of bombs. His upper body was covered in bandages, but Kihyun knew they merely hid a deep wound, very deep that Kihyun was sure he could see his lung through it. Even with plasters and bandages and wounds, Kihyun knew exactly who the man sleeping with a struggling breath was. Kihyun could not forget him, in fact, he hoped that he would not have to know him. It made the silver band on his ring finger, matching one the soldier wore, feel even colder now that his Son Hyunwoo was laying fragile on his deathbed.

Why was Hyunwoo here? Hyunwoo should’ve survived the battle. They had promised each other.

Kihyun could barely speak. He felt his throat stuck. His eyes watched how Hyunwoo’s chest rose and fell alongside his unsteady breaths. Kihyun knew exactly how it pained Hyunwoo to just even inhale. It pained Kihyun to think that Hyunwoo would be the one who was on the receiving end. He could feel tears sparkling in his eyes, but he refused to let it down. He could not cry, at least now. He was so composed, with that stone of a heart, all the other medics had been telling him all around that he was one of the strong mentalities in the area. Hyunwoo needed him now, even though Kihyun hated it, but Hyunwoo needed him. 

So he was going to be strong, for at least the both of them.

Kihyun took a chair and sat beside the bedpan. As gently as ever, Kihyun took Hyunwoo’s hand, one that was not covered in bandages. He took them very softly, as if it was the most fragile thing on earth and Hyunwoo’s hand would break on the slightest touch. The very action made Hyunwoo’s eyes flutter open, and Kihyun was almost panicking if he did not realize that he should always appear composed.

“You came.” Hyunwoo whispered, even though it pained him to do so, “You finally came. I thought you’d never come.”

“Of course I’d come. Why wouldn’t I?” Kihyun answered.  He looked directly into Hyunwoo’s dark eyes, looking for lights that used to spark there. Instead, what gazed back into Kihyun were eyes that looked fazed. Hyunwoo’s eyes were so blurry he couldn’t recognize where he was and even who held his hand. It took Kihyun all of his motivation not to crumble down and cry, and the surgeon made a faint smile while his thumb started to draw circles upon Hyunwoo’s bare hand.

Hyunwoo gasped for a breath a little, but soon enough regained his composure. He still looked at the ceiling, his eyes blinked slowly and heavily. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know.” He murmured, “But please, don’t leave me. I’m so scared. Where am I? Why am I here? We were at Verdun. I should’ve been fixing the wires by now. Lieutenant would bark at me, I—”

“Calm down, Hyunwoo. I’m not going anywhere.” Kihyun put a reassuring hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder, stopping him from moving and fidgeting too much. Hyunwoo coughed as a result, and Kihyun figured out that this was the very first time Hyunwoo looked so weak and fragile in front of him. He looked so lost, so confused, pale and sick. Kihyun did not want to let go of Hyunwoo’s hand. “You’re at the hospital. You were so brave at Verdun. Lieutenant must be so proud of you.”

“Was I really?” Hyunwoo asked innocently, clearly did not realize that Kihyun was never at his side when he was in the trenches at Verdun. Kihyun understood that Hyunwoo did not realize where he was, or what time was it now, or who he was speaking to. Kihyun understood that much, and he thought it would be better this way. “Lieutenant always said that I have a very good aim. He said I could get home for Christmas as my reward.”

Christmas was two months ago. Kihyun felt tightness in his chest. They had spent it together. Hyunwoo came home then, to the flat that they had shared together for the past two years. He brought Kihyun a large bouquet of flowers, combination of his favorite ones. Kihyun made Hyunwoo’s favorite food, with Hyunwoo noted that Kihyun made too much. They went to a nearby beach, watched the sunset together, splashed the cold winter sea water on to each other, and kissed each other under the moonlight.

“Are you happy, then?”

“I am, I am certainly happy, good sir.” Hyunwoo’s gaze still unfocused, but thinking about Christmas managed to form a small smile upon his pale and blue lips. Kihyun could see twinkles inside his black eyes, a small happiness caused by thinking of a warm Christmas back home. “I am happy because I could see my love then. You remind me of him, sir.”

Kihyun’s thumb still rubbed Hyunwoo’s hand as calmly as possible. “Oh really? How’s your love like, then? Could you tell me?”

“You reminded me of him, honestly. He’s a surgeon. Maybe you’ve met him? His name’s Yoo Kihyun.” Seconds were spent before Hyunwoo could speak again. It was trembling, but once he started, Kihyun swore that Hyunwoo’s smile could not get any wider. “He’s my everything. You know we promised to always be together? We still could not get married but we promised. When I gave him a ring, he was so happy. He smells like roses, if you believe, roses and a bit of hospital because he spends a lot of time there. He likes to cook and I love how he makes me breakfast… Don’t tell him, o’ good sir, but his black puddings are so nasty I gave them to the dogs.”

Hyunwoo laughed, but clearly it made him hurt even more. The laugh soon followed by a hard cough, Kihyun immediately rose to try and calm him down. Tears had been flowing out of Kihyun’s eyes. He kept his mouth shut and lips sealed, afraid that his sobs would make Hyunwoo feel uneasy. The only thing that he could do to Hyunwoo was to keep holding his hand and never let go. He could not hug him, he was afraid it would make his wound hurt him more. He could not kiss him, for Kihyun was sure then Hyunwoo would know it was him—and it was the last thing Hyunwoo needed.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Hyunwoo?”

Hyunwoo tilted his head, and now he was looking—but not actually seeing—at Kihyun. “Do you think he would get tired waiting for me to get back home?”

He sounded so hopeful. Kihyun felt a tear slipped through his eyelid, which he wiped furiously using the back of his hand. “Of course he would wait for you, silly. Don’t worry. I know he loves you very, very much.”

“That’s reassuring. Thank you very much.” Hyunwoo moved his gaze back to the ceiling. His chest rose and fell, gradually getting slower. Kihyun never let go of his hand, absentmindedly rubbing the silver band that still lingered on Hyunwoo’s finger. Hyunwoo whispered once again, “Would you mind staying a little bit longer? I’m so frightened.”

“Of course, of course I would stay.” The response came out too fast, but at this point, Kihyun did not care. He could feel the ending was near. He could feel it. Hyunwoo’s hands were gradually becoming colder. His eyes were blinking even slower, sometimes kept closing. His breaths were weaker and heavier. Kihyun knew. “I won’t go anywhere else. I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you. It’s very calming, your presence.” Hyunwoo tried to smile, but even the slightest action made him even paler. “And can you… please… if you met him.. Would you please… Tell Kihyun… That I love… That I love him? Tell him… I love him so much… And I’ll come back to him… I’ll come back...”

“I will… I will, Hyunwoo. I will tell him.” Kihyun whispered, “And he loves you too, you know. So much. I know he will always love you.”

“That’s good to hear… Thank you.” His words were no more than a mumble at this point. He was gasping for breath. He used his last one to say, “Thank you—”

“Hyunwoo—!”

.

.

.

When Kihyun was young, he imagined death as something that would hurt. Her mother cried when his father had died. His sister wept when her husband passed. And now, when all left of Hyunwoo was his cold body and a faint smile that lingered on his lips—as a river of tears flowed through his cheeks, and his silent sobs pierced through the quiet night, he believed that it was the best for Hyunwoo.

.

.

.

Death was inevitable.

.

.

.

But he was sure that it was the best pain for them all.

.

.

.

Kihyun spent half an hour crying silently, hands still clasping Hyunwoo’s cold one, when the little VAD nurse tiptoed towards Kihyun. Her soft voice that called Kihyun made him look up, face red, eyes swollen, looking at the nurse.

“Doctor? Doctor Smith and I tended on him when he got here and—” her trembling hand pushed forward, showing Kihyun a rectangle photo that looked spotted with blood and crumpled, “—he had been holding this.”

Still with tears falling through his cheeks, Kihyun took the photo from the nurse. The image that he saw printed there was enough to make him sob even harder.

“I’m so sorry, doctor. I’m sure he loved you very, very much.”

.

.

.

It was their picture together, both smiling happily to the camera, taken back at Christmas.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Re-edited. The title is taken from Wilfred Owen's poem Anthem for Doomed Youth.  
> The fic is influenced by a scene from Atonement film (2007), where Briony Tallis was told to hold a soldier's hand.


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